


Formal Flirting

by sindumpling



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Bathroom Sex, Because really you swear this is just sex to you, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Complicated Relationships, Creampie, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, F/M, Flirting, Hair-pulling, Making Out, Oral Sex, Slow Dancing, Sneaking Out, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sindumpling/pseuds/sindumpling
Summary: You and McCree flirt constantly. You want to take it a step farther, but McCree has his reservations. Nonetheless, you're determined to get into his pants by the end of the night.Just for the sex, you swear. Nothing more.





	Formal Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Exactly 57.811016144% of this oneshot is actual sex. The rest of it is just a very, very suggestive build up to it.

     Overwatch may be a gritty military organization that would most likely leave you with an intense need for both psychological and physical therapy, but at least it had the resources to throw tastefully fancy events. Out of all of them, the annual ball always struck you as the most enjoyable. There was always pleasant chatter, free food, and lighthearted dancing. 

     And, most importantly, it was the one night a year Jesse McCree would dress up.

     You eyed him from across the room. Though he didn't do anything to tame his mess of hair, he stood a bit straighter, his suit fitted perfectly to his toned form. Surely, he was wearing the cologne he always saved for special occasions. You admired the way his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he laughed good-naturedly at something Ana had said. Yes, the annual ball was definitely your favorite thing about Overwatch.

     You scooped two glasses of champagne off of the refreshments table and made your way over, sticking to the edges of the room to avoid colliding with any of the dancing couples that swayed around the center of it. You wore a teasing grin as you took your place next to Jesse. "You look like you actually took a shower this morning." 

     Jesse's attention turned to you, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest of moments before flitting down to the drinks in your hand. "Lotsa pretty ladies here tonight. Figured I might be able to catch somebody's eye." He took one of the glasses out of your hand, his grin lazy but confident. 

     There it was: the sardonic lilt his tone took on whenever he spoke to you. You loved it. You loved him. And you'd be damned if tonight wasn't the night you'd finally get him to reciprocate your feelings—physically or otherwise. You noticed the way his gaze skimmed to your chest for an instant before he was once again meeting your eyes. "I suppose it's safe to assume that you like what you see?" you hummed, a hint of laughter gracing your words. 

     "I was just admirin'," he muttered, his voice thick with insinuations, "the mighty low neckline that dress has."

     You felt yourself smirk. "I think you'll like what I'm wearing under it even more." You brought the flute of champagne to your lips, taking a drawn out sip.

     "And what might you be wearing under it, darlin'?" His gaze was intense, his shoulders stiff at the thought of you wearing something a bit more revealing.

     Your grin widened. Eyes narrowing a bit, you scanned the area around you for eavesdroppers. You took a step closer to him and tilted your head up to murmur in his ear, feeling as confident as ever. "Absolutely nothing."

     He gave you a low whistle as you stepped back. Despite the calm composure you knew he was trying to give off, his face was flushed a shade darker, his eyes moving down to the curves of your body. "You're actin' pretty forward tonight."

     It was true: though the two of you were known to flirt back and forth, your exchanges were typically much more tame in nature. Some suggestive comments and winks were the farthest you'd ever gotten with him. You'd never implied you were actually serious, and you'd certainly never done anything romantic or sexual with him. 

     "What can I say? I see an opportunity, and I take it," you hummed sweetly. "So, what do you say we step out for a bit? I've got an urge I've been wanting to satisfy for a while, and I don't mind grabbing a hotel room."

     "Well, we can't just up and leave." He brought himself closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist. "I'm a gentleman, and I fully intend to get in a slow dance with you some time tonight."

     Somewhat impatient, you offered a curt nod and allowed him to take your drink from you, setting it on a nearby table. "If you insist." You'd honestly rather be on the way to his room, but if he wanted to dance first, so be it. 

     The ballroom's dance floor was flurried with activity as Jesse led you towards it. Party goers moved gracefully, swatches of evening dresses seeming to blur together into a picture of measured poise. Even you had to admit the sight of it was rather pretty. "I never thought you'd be the type to dance," you muttered to Jesse as you placed your hands on his shoulders.

     A sly smile playing at his lips, his hands came to rest on your hips. "No? Now you've got me curious as to what kind of man you think I am."

     "Certainly not the type to be asking ladies to slow dance."

     Jesse pulled you flush against his chest as the two of you swayed to the soft music. "Well, what do you suppose I should be doin' in this situation?"

     "Do you really want to know the answer?" You noted the light heat that rose to your cheeks as you responded.

     "Now, don't be gettin' all shy on me now. It's a little late for that, doll."

     "Well, I wouldn't want to soil a perfectly innocent dance with less-than-innocent words." Your voice was almost terse as you leaned into his movements. "After all, you seemed to want me on the dance floor more than you want me heading to hotel with you."

     He was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression accenting his features. "Darlin', what has gotten into you tonight?" His hand moved to tuck some loose strands of hair behind your ear. "You'd usually be the type to get along well with some dancin' and fraternizing. Tonight, you're too busy tryin' to get me in your bed to enjoy yourself here. You know better than anybody I don't mind a bit of flirting, but this is . . ."

     "Too much?"

     "It's not that," he assured you. "I just think you might be forcin' yourself to make a choice you aren't so sure about."

     "God, Jesse," you breathed. "I don't think I've been this sure about anything in my life. You have no idea how much sexual frustration these years of aimless flirting has caused me." Your hands slipped down from his shoulders to his biceps, and you had to repress a shudder as they tightened under your grasp. "Enough talk. I want this cowboy to teach me how to ride."

     And he was quiet again. You were resolute, not breaking eye contact, still following his lead as you danced. He seemed somewhat contemplative, eyebrows raised but hands firm on your waist. You loved how they felt on you, and you wanted them to explore more of your skin, to slip down to your more intimate parts.

     You sighed, a sound of both frustration and abashment.

     "I'm doin' my best to be chivalrous tonight," Jesse muttered under a breathless laugh, "but you're makin' it deadly hard for me not to take advantage of the situation. The way your lookin' at me could break any man's will."

     "So why isn't it breaking yours?"

     He offered a kindly chuckle, an underlying sense of something like  _want_ coasting off the sound of it. "Believe me, sugar, it is. It's takin' everything in me not to drag you into a restroom stall with me and show you exactly what listening to you talk like that can do to a man." A long intake of breath interrupted his speech as his thumbs rubbed into the flesh of your hips. "But you deserve better."

     "Better than what? A restroom stall?" Your stomach dropped in a wonderful way as you considered the concept: you, on your knees, with Jesse pushing himself into your mouth like a man possessed. You could imagine so clearly the sight of his head tilting back, his cowboy hat fluttering the tile floor of the bathroom as he told you how good you were making him feel.

     "Better than  _me_ ," he clarified. 

     Your wistful fantasy stopped short. "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "I don't mind indulging in some suggestive exchanges of words, now." His grin was somewhat melancholic as he spoke, his words accompanied by the soft sounds of the piano. "But I ain't gonna tie you down to me. You got so much going for you; you should be dancin' with a partner a bit more suitable than me."

    "I think you suit me just fine," you asserted, resolute.

     "You know damn well I got a habit of womanizing." His eyes pointedly trailed downwards. "You don't want to be just one woman on a list of people I've taken to bed."

     "Actually, I'm fine with that. It's just sex, Jesse."

     "Is it, though? It wouldn't mean anything more than that to you?" 

     His question made you hesitate. It would. It would mean more to you than "just sex." As much as you liked the thought of being pinned to your bed by him and used for pleasure, you couldn't deny the fact that you'd like waking up in his arms the next morning just as much. And if you were being honest with yourself? Jesse didn't strike you as the type to stick around until the next morning. 

      Your silence told him everything he needed to know. "You get it now, don't you? You're still just a kid; I got quite few years on you. Ain't no use tryin' to get a worn down man like me to settle down." His gaze was earnest, but hard. 

     "The sex would still be great, though." You plastered a hazy grin on your face. "It'd be enough."

     Another laugh, baritone and warning. "I don't disagree with your first claim, but don't you think you can do better?"

     "What could be better than a night with the infamous Jesse McCree?" You continued to step in time to the music. The songs that played were beginning to blend together into one long string of background noise. "You, me, some whiskey, and a good time, right? You'd be lying if you said you've never considered it."

     "Of course I've considered it." Almost unconsciously, his hand moved a bit as he spoke, resting just below the small of your back. "Darlin', I can't tell you how much I'd like to see that pretty little mouth of yours . . ." He trailed off, his eyes refocusing on yours. A few seconds passed, then a few more. "Well, some things are left better the imagination, aren't they?"

     You could feel a slight prodding between your bodies, just below your navel. You glanced down for a moment, a subtle and unspoken declaration of victory on your part. "Please, do go on," you goaded, a sudden sense of pride in your voice that wasn't there before. He was getting just as hot and bothered as you were. "I'm all ears."

     "I don't think that's a good idea." He adjusted his position so that you bodies were no longer touching, ignoring the soft whine of protest you gave him. Still, there was that lazy grin, that wry tone of voice.

     You had to convince him while you still had his attention. "My pretty little mouth. . ." you purred. "Against yours? Around your c*ck? Moaning your name?" You allowed a slight pause, your hands leaving his arms to loosen his tie a bit. " _Screaming it_?"

     "Sugar, I—"

     You relished the way he stiffened and focused his gaze on the ceiling as your inquiries ambled on. "What else do you imagine with that dirty mind of yours? Do you ever think of me when you're in your room at night, all alone as you try to get yourself off?" Inconspicuously and well aware of the low buzz of the ballroom, you let one of your hands trail down his chest, stopping to lay on his belt buckle. "Do you buck into your fist pretending it's mine?"

    "What I'm tryin' to say is—"

     He was practically leaning into your words, his teeth snagging on his bottom lip and his grip on you tighter than it'd been all night. God, you were saying some perverted things. Go big or go home, you supposed. "I wonder what kind of positions you've thought of me in? Cowboy style?" You raised a curious eyebrow. "No, that's to obvious, isn't it? Maybe you'd prefer me against the wall—"

     He pulled you in close, his grip almost forceful. "Bathroom. Now," he muttered in your ear, voice gruff and low. 

     He was gone in the next moment, maneuvering his way though the couples that navigated the dance floor, leaving you to process the chain of events you'd just set into motion. You were instantly filled with a lovely sense of dread and excitement; you'd finally get to live out your fantasies with Jesse. 

     It was sex. Just sex.

     You reminded yourself that as you hurried after him, all but sprinting across the ballroom and out into the hallway. You felt yourself turn a light shade of red as you watched Jesse shove his way past Torbjorn and Reinhardt and into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him. 

     "Ah, young love," Reinhardt's voice boomed when he saw you slip past by, your hand reaching eagerly for the door handle. 

     "Reyes is going to have a fit when he finds out what McCree's been up to," was Torbjorn's bitter response when you opened the door and stepped into the small cubicle that was the restroom.  

     The door had just clicked shut, and McCree already had your back against it. His lips were immediately on yours, hot and heavy as he moved them, a sense of urgency clear in his actions. You felt him reach to your right and lock the door, his other hand taking hold of your jaw and keeping it in place as he deepened the kiss. All the little comments said in passing, the constant winking, and the teasing little shows of affection had all built up—the effects of this were clear as you practically melted into his embrace, knocking his cowboy hat to the floor as you tangled your fingers into his disheveled, honey brown hair. 

     Your contact with him was intense, almost messy, your legs trembling as they tried to hold you up despite the hotness in your core that made you want to sink to the ground and let Jesse have his way with you. His hands pulled the top of your dress down, and he had to pull away for a moment to give you a chuckle that was almost dark in nature. "You weren't lyin' when you said you weren't wearing anything under that dress, huh?"

     Breathless, you shook your head with a taunting smile. "You know I could never lie to you, Jesse."

     He moved to rest his face in the crook of your neck, and you could just  _feel_  the smirk he had on his face as he palmed at your chest, the tips of his fingers brushing over the peaks of your breasts in a way that made the room spin and your hips rock forward. The scruff of his beard brushed against you as he pressed his lips to your throat, dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin. You could only offer a dazed gasp as he lifted his leg up just enough for his thigh to rub against the aching want between your legs. Involuntarily, you felt yourself rut against him, a carnal desire building up within you that had your balance waning.

     Another breathless laugh left him as he drew his face away from your throat. "I've wanted to do this for longer than you've even known my damn name," he muttered, his tone sweet and sultry. "Since the day I first laid eyes on you, I've wondered what you'd look like pinned up against a wall by me like this." His gaze was unembarrassed, wandering over the bare skin of your chest and the fabric of the dress that was now largely bunched up around your waist. "I'm surprised I've been able to be so restrained around you. I must have a soft spot for you."

     "Regardless, I wish you would've lost your patience sooner," you practically cooed back at him. Jesse was standing tall as you slid down the expanse of his body, dropping to your knees and tugging at his belt until his pants fell to a pool around his ankles. Just as eagerly, you pulled his underwear down—huh, you'd never figured he was a boxer briefs kind of man—to reveal his already half-hard c*ck. "I've been looking forward to this, myself."

     He visibly shuddered as you wrapped a hand around it, giving it a few pumps before covering its head with your mouth. He leaned back against the sink, a low groan escaping him. "That's it, Pumpkin, just like that."

     You would've smiled if your mouth wasn't occupied by Jesse. You took it slow, inch at a time, savoring the expressions he made when you flitted your eyes up to his. By the time you were down to the base, he had one hand tangled in the tresses of your hair and the other gripping at the sink so hard you swear it would start to crack. The pads of your fingers trailed up the skin of his thighs, feeling the hard muscles underneath tense. A hum left you then, and Jesse twitched at the sudden (but welcome) vibration. 

     Your head bobbed as you slid your lips up and down his length, tongue pressed flat against its underside as you picked up your pace. You could feel an ache between your legs, a need that was begging to be met, and you did your best to handle it yourself for the time being, one of your hands slipping through the folds of your dress and into yourself. Your head felt light, and you could tell Jesse liked the sight of you touching yourself. The face he made was enough to earn a muffled moan from you. At this rate, you'd reach your climax before he even touched you.

     As if on cue, Jesse used his soft grip on your hair to guide you off of him. "Can't wait to get that dress the rest of the way off so I can bend you over this sink." The way he gazed down at you, breathing labored, sent a pleasant chill through you. 

     "Then hurry up and get this thing off of me."

     He impatiently pulled your dress down to join his pants on the tile floor, voice caught in his throat when he saw proof that you weren't, in fact, wearing any panties. It took mere seconds for him to have you pushed against the sink, your thighs pressing against the cool ceramic. You could feel his hardness resting against the crevice of your lower back, precum leaking out of his tip. 

      You gasped at the burning heat of his body as he leaned over you and brought his lips to the shell of your ear. "One last chance," he muttered. "Tell me to stop. If you think this is more than just sex, just push me away and tell me I'm a bastard. I won't blame you for nothin'."

     A beat of silence. "Jesse, I—"

     "I care about you. I really do." You could feel his beard brushing against your cheek as he spoke. "I ain't one to commit, though. Not to a relationship. But this?" His palm ran up the side of your thigh and the curve of your ass. "This I can do."

     You turned your head so that the tip of your nose pressed against his, your dazed gazes and staccato breaths intermingling. "You know I can't lie to you, Jesse," you sighed. "I really do see the world in you. I want you for more than just tonight." You paused, laying a soft kiss against his lips. "But this is enough for now. I take what I can get."

     "You really know how to set a man up for regrets." 

     He brought his hips back, leaving a few kisses upon your jawline before snapping himself forward. You cried out his name as he buried the length of himself into you, his voice lapsing into hurried curses and restrained grunts. The room felt small, your face felt hot, and Jesse felt  _amazing_ , filling you perfectly and coaxing out breathy moans as his face fell to the crook of your neck and his lips latched onto your heated skin.

     He was leaving marks against your throat that your Overwatch uniform wouldn't be able to hide tomorrow. There was going to be little fingerprint-sized bruises on your sides where he was gripping at you. They'd surely be visible if your shirt were to ride up during sparring. You weren't convinced you'd even make it to tomorrow's sparring session; the way you stretched around the thickness of his c*ck as he pushed himself deep inside of you implied you wouldn't even be able to walk straight in the morning. 

     But as his hand snaked down the expanse of your stomach and stopped at your clit, you couldn't find it in yourself to care about the state you'd be in after tonight. The way he rubbed circles around it as he rocked himself into you, skin slapping against skin, made you throw your head back and groan his name, unable to think of anything beside how good he was making you feel. 

     "You're enjoying this," he observed smugly, voice somewhat strained.

     "Mmm," was the only affirmation you could offer. 

     "We're in an Overwatch restroom, impromptu, and you're this wet for me?"

     "I've wanted you to f*ck me for a while now," you clarified through shuddering breaths. "Doesn't matter where, so long as you have your d*ck inside me."

     He straightened, letting the cool air rest upon your bare back. His fingers wound their way into your hair and he pulled your head up, making your back arch. "Goddamn," he muttered, "I should feel more hesitant about all of this, but I'm too busy thinkin' about how good you look from behind."

     You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut as the movements of his hips grew more forceful. "I wish I could see how you look right now, too," you squeaked.

     "I can compromise." You could hear the smile in his voice as he pulled out briefly, turning you around and lifting you onto the sink counter before pushing himself back inside with you a smug hum that stifled his urge to groan. 

     You weren't sure at what point he'd picked his hat up off the floor, but he dropped it on your head as you grabbed at his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric of his suit jacket. The cowboy hat was a bit big on you, tilting to the side and threatening to fall of with every thrust McCree delivered. You felt ablaze as you pushed your lips onto his. Your senses consumed you: the feeling of your heated skin melting into his; the smell and taste of the cigar he'd smoked earlier on his lips; the sight of him inside you that seemed to be burned into your vision; the sound of his southern drawl as he told you how good you were doing, how good you felt. 

     "I'm so close," you managed hoarsely. A warm, weighty feeling was pushing down on your insides as you moaned for him to go just a little faster, to rock his hips just a little harder. 

     He obliged, hands settled firmly on your hips as he slammed into you just a few more times. His mouth broke away from yours as his head lolled back, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You could see the twist of his mouth as he rode out the feeling of you growing tighter and tighter around him. In the next moment, your eyes fell shut and you saw stars, a feeling of lust rising in your throat as you cried out his name and came around him. 

      The feeling of you shaking around him as you reached your peak was enough to push him over, knocking the cowboy hat off of you as his hands tangled in your hair and he spilled himself into you. As he withdrew from you, pulling out and leaning against the counter with his hands on either side of you, he chuckled. You smiled back, exhausted but satisfied and accomplished.

     His eyes dropped and he watched as his cum dripped out of you with a morbidly raised eyebrow. "Now ain't that a pretty sight?"

     You averted your gaze and squeezed your thighs shut, thoroughly embarrassed by his staring. 

     The corners of his mouth turned up further. "Wouldn't mind doing this again sometime, just to see that again."

     Past all the promises to yourself that this was just sex—that if this were to become something regular, it would still be casual—you let yourself feel a spark of hope.

     And that was your biggest mistake yet.  


End file.
